


The Life and Lies of Conmen and Spies

by CelestialHeavens1



Series: Of Spies and Conmen [1]
Category: Covert Affairs, White Collar
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Gen, Jewish Character, Minor Character Death, Secret Identity, Secrets, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialHeavens1/pseuds/CelestialHeavens1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only difference between spies and conmen are stories they can tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I had for a while. Kind of a what if sort of scenario.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**The Life and Lies**

He was less than a day old the first time he met his brother, Eyal Lavin.

Their mother was a beautiful woman named Aya Chait and Eyal's father was named Noam Lavin. Noam and Aya had gotten divorced and Eyal had stayed with his father. When she traveled to America, she met a charming American policeman named James Bennett. When James was arrested, Aya moved back to Tel Aviv, where she discovered she was pregnant. She named the baby Navon Chait and spoke to him in English and Hebrew and her parents' native German.

Eyal and Noam were at Navon's birth. Eyal had held his little brother with wide eyes and the declaration of one day he wanted to be a father. Aya and Noam had gotten back together not long after that and within a few months of Navon's birth, they were engaged. Within a year of being married, his baby sister, Hannah was born. Despite not being his own, Noam adopted Navon and loved him the same as he did his own children. Noam travelled quite a bit and Aya was always worried. When he was older, he found out why. Noam was a government man, working for the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations.

It was only natural that when the time came for Navon to serve, he'd follow in his step-father's footsteps by being recruited by Mossad. He was a valuable asset to them. He spoke fluent English, Yiddish, German, French, Russian, and Greek, in addition to some Italian, Spanish, Arabic, and Danish, as well as his native Hebrew. He had a wide knowledge of a variety of subjects. He could create passports and legal documents that were difficult to forge. He could recreate paintings and bonds from memory. As a result, Mossad would send him to forge Nazi loot and recover the original. He was good at it too, the best.

* * *

He was twenty-one the first time he saw Peter Burke.

Peter was FBI, barely, and Navon was on a mission in D.C. He'd always wanted to see the FBI's training facilities, or at least, that was what he told his handler. Eyal was on an off the book vacation in the States on a not-so-legal passport. Peter was there, along with some guy called Rossabi, at one of the fast food restaurants that Eyal and Navon found themselves at. They had to hightail it back to Israel after FBI caught word of a certain Mossad agent stealing paintings, that may or may not have been stolen from Jews during the Thirties. (But there's no way the FBI was acknowledging that part and there went Navon's first clean passport, which was a real shame because he had worked so hard on making a solid American identity.)

* * *

He was twenty-five when his sister died.

They found out that Hannah Lavin was dead, along with thirty or so others from a suicide bomber in Netanya that became known as the Passover massacre. After that, he took off running. He'd take any mission anywhere and it's during the thirty-six days that Eyal is part of Operation Defensive Shield that Navon gains a reputation in Mossad as being that  _meshugener gonif_. He had started running from the truth-  _no, Chanah can't be dead. She can't be_ \- and he kept running and couldn't stop. He kept trying and failing to find something to hold on to, but everything slipped through his fingers like butter.

Eyal was like him. Once his service was up, he followed his father's footsteps and join Mossad too. The two of them kept running. It drove Mrs. Lavin crazy, to the point where she eventually divorced him and got custody of their son, Aviv. Eyal's still running, still grasping at straws to try to hold on to something, anything, that will hold him in one place. He doesn't have what Navon has, but he knows Eyal is okay with that for now.

* * *

He was twenty-six the first time he went to New York City.

He was supposed to cultivate Vincent Adler as an asset so he'd lead them to a whole ship of stolen Nazi pieces. It was the first time he met the wild Auggie Anderson. He was a CIA legend. Unfortunately, his mission was the same one was Navon's and he was ashamed to say that if it wasn't for a conman named Mozzie, he'd have failed terribly.

* * *

He was twenty-six when he got on the FBI's radar.

As a conman, no less. It was at this point that Mossad felt the need to tell him that if he was caught by the FBI, they would not help him. They would not extract him, they would not work a deal with the United States. He would be completely on his own. Mossad would deny all knowledge of him. He told them it was fine.

* * *

He was twenty-six the first time he fell in love.

Her name was Kate Moreau and she made him want to forget everything. She made him want to drop the mission, drop Mozzie's con, drop everything and just be free with her. The two of them on an uncharted island in the sun. It was the first time he'd ever thought of such a thing. Kate was the reason he'd stopped running. When she left, she became the reason he started running again.

* * *

He was twenty-nine when the FBI arrested him.

This particular event occurred two weeks after he set up a rather largely funded bank account and made himself a safe house in New York. Mozzie and Kate didn't know about it and it was on one of his few clean identities. Andrew Robert Ross, thirty, a linguist and translator who learned the languages by studying them in their own country. He even who a few articles about himself under various names and filed tax returns. The condominium he had bought was paid off in full. The electric, gas, and water all came out of the bank account on automatic withdrawal. He stashed any evidence that he was a foreign citizen there.

Eyal was at his trial, sitting discreetly in the back, just another concerned, but bored citizen, as was Auggie on the exact opposite side. Still, he was touched that his brother would show up for this and he thanked  _HaShem_  that he wasn't caught for espionage. That would be career suicide. It might also be regular suicide too, especially if certain assets that he had cultivated learned who he really was. That wouldn't be good for him. So he prayed, silently in his head, hoping that they wouldn't ever discover it before he could disappear in the wind. (It was, after all, a family trait.)

* * *

He was thirty-two when he started working with the FBI.

But it was better than prison, so who could blame him. By then, Neal Caffrey had no easy connection to Navon Chait. The idea was almost laughable, that a gentleman art thief could be a Mossad field officer.

He kept up his languages in private. He held secret conversations, burner phone to burner phone with Eyal. He spoke German with a friend of his in Germany. He ordered food in French at restaurants and pretended to be a Russian tourist at others. He'd like to go to worship in a temple, but he didn't really feel like explaining to anybody when Neal Caffrey became Jewish… or his name suddenly became Navon.

After all, the only difference between spies and conmen are stories they can tell.

* * *

He was thirty-three when Kate died.

She was exploded in a plane that was obviously meant for him. His first guess was that his old life had caught back up with him. It'd been another year before he had answers, and Vincent Adler was only attacking Neal Caffrey, not Navon Chait. He didn't even know who that was. Kate had died not knowing who Neal really was or why he stole what he did. She, like Mozzie, assumed that the stuff was for fun or for vanity, but everything he stole went straight to his handler who took everything right back to Mossad. He had turned her without her even knowing. He'd been ready to propose to her, but he had lied through his teeth. It made him feel guilty and awful and he couldn't even tell Peter, not without him getting very angry and accusing him for espionage. (Which after getting accused for that time in Russia, back when he was still very green, was not a road he would ever be ready to go down again.)

* * *

He was thirty-five when Auggie Anderson stumbled into one of Peter's investigations, near literally.

He hadn't seen Auggie since before he had gone to prison, but they played chess over the computer, rooted through message boards and false IDs. (They were nothing if not cautious.) He had heard about the man's accident and how he had lost his sight. He hadn't expected it to have actually changed the cocky CIA operative.

"Sir, you can't be here. This area is closed. It's part of an ongoing investigation," a woman was saying to someone who he wasn't paying all that much attention to.

"Yes, I know. And I'm telling you, I dropped my cane in the confusion. I need my cane. Annie!" Navon looked up because he knew that voice, but he only knew the pretty blonde woman from the way his brother talked about her. (And if Eyal didn't sound more in love or concerned for the blonde than he had for Kate, he'd give every penny he had away.) He'd never expected that she had changed the former field operative as much as his accident had.

He ran over to them, "Hey, Maggie?" He put a hand on the agent's shoulder, "It's okay. Why don't you go get his cane? They won't come in any farther. I'll watch them."

"Do my ears deceive me?" Navon smirked at the man.

"It's good to see you too, Auggie."

"Handsome as ever, I see." The men chuckled and shook hands.

"I take it you two know each other," Annie said from where she had become Auggie's human cane.

"We do." Auggie began to introduce the two, but he beat the other man to the punch, "A-"

"Annie Walker. My brother's description does you no justice." She looked between Navon and Auggie, as if trying to figure if they were really related. He leaned in, "My brother who you've met in Zurich. And D.C. And Israel."

It took a minute, but then it clicked for the two CIA agents. "You're related to Eyal?"

He chuckled, "Navon Chait. Better known as Neal Caffrey."


	2. From Chait to Caffrey

From Chait to Caffrey

How an Israeli Spy became an American Conman

* * *

He was turning eighteen when Ellen asked to meet him in Jerusalem.

He still had never figured out how he managed to get there without being followed. His step-father was at work and his mother was at Chanah's school, where she had made a spectacular mess of things when she "accidentally" made a knock out nerve gas in the chemistry lab that had wound up with another kid in the hospital. He knew he came from a family of geniuses, but his baby sister was downright brilliant. Eyal was had started college and Neal had expressed a desire to join the  _Mishteret Yisrael_ , or the civilian police force, but only to Ellen. His parents wouldn't understand, especially considering they were both Mossad. He first went to the train station, just to be safe, and bought a ticket to Haifa. He climbed on the train but had jumped off at the last second into the crowd. Then, he took his forged ID and bought a bus ticket to Jerusalem.

Navon met Ellen at the  _Ein Karem_ , the birthplace of  _Yohanan ha-mmatbil_ …who was also known as John the Baptist. It was a popular tourist spot, which was probably why she had picked it. After checking once more for a tail, he headed there to meet her.

"Happy birthday," his birth father's former partner smiled at him, speaking in English. She was one of the few people he spoke to in English. "I would have gotten you something, but I didn't know what you might like."

"It's okay. It's nice seeing you."

"You too. Thank you for coming here." Ellen seemed nervous.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Your father." He looked at her in surprise. "Please don't get upset."

"Upset? What for?"

"I know you want to be a cop, but-"

"Like Dad. He was a hero and I want to be like him." Ellen shook her head.

"He wasn't a hero." Navon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, like she had just told him two plus two didn't equal four. "He was a dirty cop. He's not dead. He's in prison. He killed another cop."

"But… what are you talking about? Ima said that my father died when I was two, that he had died in a hail of bullets from the bad guys, that he was a hero-" His words were frantic and confused and for the first time in a very long time, she say a scared, lost little boy.

"Your mother lied, Neal."

He reeled back as if she had slapped him, his face full of horror. "Who's Neal?"

Ellen quickly realized her mistake. "You are," she said softly, handing him a birth certificate. "He didn't get formally sentence until you were two and when he did, she changed your name legally. It was his idea to name you Neal. She always called you Navon." He stared at the words on the page in horror. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you, but she didn't want to say anything. She didn't want you to have to deal with this."

His face went cold, then calm. "Thank you for telling me, Ellen." He turned away and started walking. She tried to follow, but he disappeared in the crowd. Ellen sighed.

* * *

Navon stepped into the home he grew up in. There were smells drifting down the hall from the kitchen, so that where he head. He slammed the folder that had his real birth certificate down on the table.

"Navon!" his mother jumped, "Where have you been? I got a phone call saying that you left school in the middle of the day and didn't come back." She noticed the folder. "What is this?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Aya Lavin frowned, opening it gingerly, but recognition flickered over her face as she realized what it was.

"How did you find out?"

"Ellen told me. Because apparently, even though she's an ocean and a continent away, she felt guilty about lying to me." His words were spoken with barely masked hostility.

"I was going to tell you. Not like this."

"Well it's a little late for that!"

"I was a different person then, Navon. I was trying to protect you. Your father, your birth father, he had enemies, and I had plenty of my own enemies. It was safer if you didn't know."

" _Lehi lehizdayen!_ " he shouted back at her, looking furious. He didn't notice, or didn't care, about the crowd of his family that he had drawn in.

"What's going on in here?" Navon ignored Noam Lavin's question, storming out of the house.

* * *

Eyal and Chanah found him on the promenade in Jaffa. He knew he must have been a mess, because his sister hesitated before she slipped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "Please don't hate me too." She seemed scared and upset, so Navon smoothed her blonde curls and wrapped his arm around her.

"I don't hate you." He glanced back at his brother. "You didn't know, did you?"

"No. I would have told you." He stepped up beside them.

"I trusted her." He sounded so lost and his siblings' hearts both panged. "I trust her and Abba and neither of them could be bother to tell me the truth. I had to find out from a stranger."

"I sure she had her reasons. I'm not defending them, I'm just saying that they have many secrets. I'm not sure I'd really want to know all of them." Eyal looked at him, "This doesn't have to change things."

"That's easy for you to say," he said, looking back towards the water, "You didn't find out that your whole life has been a lie."

"Maybe. But not all of it has been. You're still my little brother."

"And my big brother," Chanah quipped in, smiling hopefully at him.

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"Why do you have to be anything? Just let the current take you where it wants." Navon looked at him.

"That's easy for you to say. You're perfect. You've got the beautiful wife, are going to school, just like they want. I'm a mistake."

"Don't say that!" Chanah exclaimed, pushing away from him, "You can't be a mistake. Eyal, tell him he's wrong!"

Eyal nodded his head in agreement. "You are wrong, little brother, you're many things, but a mistake is not one of them." He motioned towards where he had parked his car. "Now come on. I have a friend at the  _Muze'on Tel Aviv Lamanut_  who says that there's a new exhibit. That should give both you and Ima some time to calm down." Navon nodded and the three took off.

* * *

It was his first day of work at the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations. "Wait up!" someone behind him called. Navon turned around to see a pretty dark hair girl approach him. "It's my first day too."

"That obvious?"

"You don't have an ID badge either." Navon chuckled. "Shoshanah Avraham. But please call me Tara. Everyone does."

"Navon Chait. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Avraham." She blushed as the two headed inside the door that Navon held open for them. "Nervous?"

"Yes, and excited. My parents don't approve. They wanted me to be a model. How about you?"

"They're thrilled. I just told them that I was going to be continuing their work. I think they're positive I'm doing this out of a need to get revenge on them." Tara laughed quietly and Navon steered them towards the guards desk. "Navon Chait-Levin."

"Shoshanah Avraham," she told them and the ID badge making process began.

"Navon Levin?" a dark hair girl asked, standing up from the chair she was waiting in as he exited the screening room.

"Chait," he corrected automatically.

"Sorry?"

"It's Navon Chait. I don't go by Levin."

"Eliana Shalit. I'm your handler. This way." He eyed her as they walked.

"You don't look like you fit the profit for here. So what made you join?"

Eliana stopped short. "Look, I am here to send you out and bring you home. I am not here to be your friend and I have better things to do than babysit the newbie."

"I think that you'll find that being my friend is much better than being my enemy, Ms. Shalit." He started walking towards where he knew he was assigned, but paused and looked back at her. "And I don't need a babysitter. I grew up here." He gave her a smirk, and walked away, leaving her stunned. It took her a couple of minutes, but he could hear her coming up behind him.

"I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight. You could get into somewhere that you don't have the clearance to see."

"Sweetheart, I can guarantee you that my clearance is the same as yours. I read your file; didn't you read mine?" Her mouth opened, but she couldn't think of what to say. He smirked at her and she sighed, giving in. Little did she know just how much she was in for.

* * *

Navon was a master at backgammon, which was fortunate, since the world backgammon finals at the Grand Casino in Monaco was where the CIA had scheduled for a simple, run of the mill brush pass with Mossad. He had gotten there early to scope out the pace and wound up playing as well. There was a player who would be a valuable asset and he planned on turning them before the game was done. His contact would be wearing a watch with a brown leather strap on their left arm and a green striped tie.

He was going by his birth name, or part of it, as George Blanch, a business man with a interest in backgammon. It was a pretty solid alias, with a backstory and everything. "You're bad for business," the man who took the seat across from him said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. …?"

"Keller. Matthew Keller."

"George Blanch." Keller's eyes narrowed.

"What's your game?" Navon raised his eyebrow.

"Backgammon, obviously."

Keller didn't trust this guy, he realized as he watched him. He was too smooth and too charming. And what was with him switching briefcases with that guy like he did?

"Mr. Blanch, why don't you join me for a drink in my suite later tonight?" The man smiled, all blue eyes and charm.

"I'll do that."

* * *

Navon called back to Eliana. "I'm staying an extra night. I'm making friends. I need you to book my suite for an extra night and put back my flight home."

"Who are these friends that you're making?"

"Eh… no one you'd be interested in." He smiled. He could almost picture her rolling her eyes from the other end.

"Oh, honey, you can find your own way home if that's how you're going to play."

"Don't tempt me. Maybe I will." Eliana went silent. She knew he would too. He heard her sigh.

"Don't even think about it, Dino. How's 10:15 tomorrow?"

"Sounds great. See you tomorrow." He clicked the phone off, pulling on a jacket before he headed out.

"Mr. Keller," Navon greeted the man as he opened the door.

"Mr. Blanch. So glad you could make it." Navon strode in confidently, taking a seat on the settee. Keller poured them drinks, handing Navon one while staying on his feet. It looked like he was at a loss in the physical battle, but he didn't know who Navon was, or that the Israeli spy knew three forms of martial arts. He didn't know that the man was studying him the same way he was studying him.

"What is it you'd like, Mr. Keller?"

"I know you're a conman and a thief. I know about that briefcase you stole and know you probably don't want that reported to the authorities." Navon raised his eyebrow as Keller smirked. "I have a job, but it's a two person job."

"Alright. You've got twelve hours. I have to be at the airport at nine tomorrow. I've got a flight to catch."

Keller's smile faltered. "The tournament's not over yet."

"But my business is."

The other man stayed quiet for a moment. "This can't be done in twelve hours."

"Pick a country."

"What?"

"Pick a country, any country, and I'll meet you there for a job. I get half the take." Navon drained his drink and set it down on the coffee table, standing up. "This has been a pleasure, but I'm going to go turn in. I have an early morning."

* * *

Navon was sitting in the stacks, reading a file on Matthew Keller. Eliana walked in, putting a file away and pulling out another.

"You know, using company resources to play your game is highly unethical."

"And using them to check out your dates isn't?" His handler smiled.

"Like they weren't going to do it anyways. I was just saving them the time and effort." Neal chuckled and Eliana handed him an envelope. "Here."

"What's this?"

"A plane ticket to where Keller's spending the weekend. Go beat this guy, would you?"

He smirked. "I thought using company resources to play my game was unethical."

"Yeah, well you were going to do it anyways." He stood up, putting Keller's file back where it belonged, before he walked out. "Have fun," she called after him.

* * *

Simon patted Navon on the back as they got off the mats from where they had been sparring, and he winced in pain. "You're getting better." The Russian paused, studying the man's shirt. "Take your shirt off. You ripped your stitches." The Israeli did as the other man said and pulled the article of clothing off, "Why didn't you say something?"

"Wasn't worth it. Wasn't bothering me."

"It'll scar."

"Let it," Navon growled. "I put in four years of work there, good work, and the minute I need help, they deny all knowledge. You gotta wonder why it's worth it sometimes, don't you?"

Simon sighed, pouring the Israeli a drink, handing it to him as he went to get the first aid kit. "I have to believe what I'm doing is making a difference, that someone is alive and living their life because of my actions." Neither man acknowledged that the younger man was proof of this. Instead, he just cleaned the torn skin and tried to fix it back together. "You're a good agent, Navon. I know he said a lot of things to you in there, but you really did do well. There aren't many people who would have lasted anywhere near as long as you did." Simon took in the jaded look in the man's eyes, the pain, the grief. "Something happened to you, something that made you think you deserved every bit of what was happening in there. But you have to snap out of it. Find something you like doing now, even if it means getting out."

"Why?" Navon asked him, taking a sip, letting the alcohol burn all the way down.

"Because we're not just pawns in their game. You have a right to live as much as anyone. If you have to find some abandoned island to do that, so be it, but don't let the guilt over any of what you have to do get you killed."

"You don't know what I've done." His eyes flickered over to the picture of the girl on the end table next to the sofa. "If your sister got killed and you were responsible for her death, what would you do?" Simon froze, his hand dropping into his lap as he sat back.

"I don't know." He pulled his shirt down so that his shoulder blade showed and he turned slightly to give the man a better angle to see it. "She's my bright star, the thing anchors me in this very crazy would we live in." He fixed his shirt and turned back to Navon, "Find yourself an anchor and the guilt you feel will lessen because you'll have found something to live for. And as long as you honor her memory, then I don't think that you should let the guilt kill you."

* * *

"This is awful," a voice with an English accent said, sitting in the middle of the apartment as Navon walked in.

"Sorry I can't accommodate your palette," he replied dryly, "Not all of our companies give us six figure pay checks for each job we do."

Simon chuckled, "It's not about how much money they give you, it's about how you invest the money. I once turned fifty pounds into fifty thousand pounds in two weeks."

"That's nice. What are you doing here?"

"How would you like to make more money than you ever could spend in your life?" The Israeli eyed the Russian.

"What would I have to do?"

"Nothing bad, I promise. Tomorrow at noon. I'll find you."

* * *

The Russian operative found him at the Cafe Mezada on Hayarkon Street. There was a gentle breeze coming off the water. With him, was a man with dark skin and hair, that if Navon had to guess, was probably Indian.

"Navon Chait, this is Jai Wilcox."

"He's a child!" Jai, exclaimed.

Navon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'm a child." He glanced at Simon. "What's he got to do with anything?"

Simon took a breath in and sat down. Grudgingly, Jai followed. "He's brought us on to some of the information." Navon eyed him and Simon passed over a sheet of paper, which the Israeli scanned over.

"It's a list. Who are all these names?" Simon and Jai both looked at him.

* * *

" _Oy vey_!" Eyal exclaimed, taking safe haven in Navon's apartment.

"How did you get in? I know I didn't give you the new keys." His older brother shrugged.

"You need new locks."

"I'll take that under advisement." He went to the cabinet, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of vodka with its label printed in Russian. "Long day?"

"I just told  _Ima_  that I had joined Mossad and that's why I wasn't going back to medical school." Navon grimaced in sympathy.

"How'd your wife take it?"

"No where nearly as bad as our parents did.  _Ima_  swears that I'm trying to kill her." Eyal drained the entire glass, then blinked in surprise. "Where did you get this?"

"A friend of mine. He guaranteed that it would make you feel good now, but wish you were dead tomorrow." His brother eyed the bottle.

"Pass it here." Navon did and Eyal poured a full glass, drank that, and poured another. "That's a good friend you have."

Navon smirked, clinking his glass and his brother's together, " _L'chayim_." In the process of him toasting, his sleeve came up and the scars on his arm showed.

"Whoa!" Eyal grabbed his brother's arm, pulling up the sleeves. "What the hell happened here?" He studied the scarring, the way it continued up underneath the shirt. The younger man stayed quiet. "Navon, what is this?"

Navon looked down at where his brother was gripping his arm. "It's classified." He jerked his arm away and took a drink.

"Don't pull that bullshit on me. When did this happen? Where? No, you don't have to answer when. It was when you disappeared completely, when Eliana came over to my house and asked if I had heard from you, wasn't it? I know torture marks when I see them, Navon. Who did this to you?"

"His name was Alexei Vershinin. That's all I can tell you."

Eyal grumbled unhappily under his breath, pacing the apartment in anger. It was then that he noticed the packed bags sitting in the entrance way. "You're leaving."

"Tomorrow."

"Navon, you weren't even home for her fune-"

"No! Please, can we just not talk about this now?"

"Have you even visited her since?" Navon closed his eyes in pain, the grief clear across his face.

"Eyal, can we not fight tonight? Please?" His brother acquiesced and they sat down for drinks in silence.

* * *

"Alright! Follow the lady! All you gotta do is follow the lady. I'm mixin' fast but if your eyes are faster, you win. Simple as that." It was a street con artist, but it was still catchy.

"Lady's in the middle," a man in glasses and a toupee said, pointing at the card. The man turned it over.

"You've got good peepers, pal. Wanna double up?"

"Sure."

"Toss in. You're saying that you can follow her, but I don't think you can. It's all a game of you versus me. Alright here we go, here we go. Where is she, where is she? Watch her, watch her. Oh, she's a sneaky lady, but I think she likes you."

"She's on my right," toupee man said and Navon couldn't help but correct him.

"She's back in the middle." He had done this same trick with enough Mossad officers when he was a kid to know where the lady really was.

"Are you crazy? She's definitely on the right."

"Hey! It's his money, kid," the con said as toupee man flipped over the card on his right, a ten of spades. "Ah, she's sneakin' around on you boss."

"Lucky guess. If you're so good at this, why don't you put your own money down?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Alright," Navon said, pulling out his wallet, the one that said he was Neal Caffrey. It was the same ID he'd given to Alexei all those months ago and his scars had faded enough for him to wear short sleeves again. Simon had assured him that since this ID was in Russian databases now, that anyone searching would find something. It was a solid alias. He put fifty down on the table.

"Fifty? Come on, really take this guy."

"Time to put up or shut up, kid."

"Alright, let's go five hundred." He counted out the bills, trying to remember all the times he'd conned those agents out of their lunch money or, as he got older, car keys. The crowd seemed to appreciate it.

"Alright, it looks like I hooked me a whale here. Looky looky, hey diddle diddle, the queen's in the middle. Follow her fast, follow her slow. My hands are fast, your eyes are slow. Take that little lady and you win, my man. All you gotta do is show me the smile on the lady's face and you walk away with it all." The con stopped shuffling. Navon put his finger on the card on his left. "You sure?"

"Yeah, he's sure," Toupee guy said.

"I'm sure." He slipped the queen onto the table heads up, then took the cash. "Fun game. Thank you, man. You toss it all very well." With that, he walked away.

A knock on his door made him look up. He didn't spook as easily as he had, not like he used to just after Simon had found him, and he wasn't reaching for the Beretta 418 he kept hidden away just in case. He was a fan of the classics, but he wasn't stupid and knew that would only go so far, which was why he had a Ruger P89 he also had hidden in case the occasion arose. He tucked the money he'd been counting inside a book as the person knocked for a second time. He opened the door, keeping the chain locked, just in case.

Toupee guy stood outside. "I'm the guy from the park." He closed the door and the guy knocked again. "Hey, I'm not here to give you hospital time, kid."

Yeah, like he was going to let that happen again anytime soon. "Good, 'cause I'm not giving you your money back." Not with what Mossad gave him to spend on this mission and said 'make it work'. He was going to pick up money anywhere he could find it.

"Ah, keep it."

He unlocked the door. "What's your angle?"

"Look, I've been running Find the Lady for years and even I didn't catch that swap." Yeah, kind of the point.

"Uh, where's your partner?"

"I left him."

"Why?" He might be overly suspicious and paranoid, but it'd keep him alive. The guy shrugged.

"I need an upgrade." Navon sighed and let him in.

* * *

"There he is. Our white whale," Toupee guy, Mozzie as he had learned was the man's name, "What did you find out about him?" He handed Navon the binoculars.

He recalled the Mossad file that he had read on his target, his mark, before he left. "Well, he's the CEO of Alder Financial Management and he runs a top hedge fund."

"Good. What'd he bring in?"

That was in the file, but he couldn't remember it. Tara had come into the Stacks then and they had gotten distracted talking about the Israeli versus Greek beaches, and whether the Rivera or the Italian coast was a more overrated spot to do a brush pass. "I don't know."

"Never say that. Know everything. Adler made a hundred fifty million last year, up eight percent from the prior year." He lifted his index finger, "Know thine enemy and you will win. Sun Tzu."

"Alright." This guy was more demanding than Mossad and Simon put together, and he never thought he'd meet someone more demanding than Simon. "What's the con?"

"Well, Adler moves a hefty percentage of his profits into an account in the Caymens every six months."

"Tax free."

"Exactly." He turned back to Navon, "All we need to reroute his next wire transfer is two pieces of information: account number and password. That's where you come in."

"Where does he keep it? Personal safe? Deposit box?"

"In his head. He's too smart to keep it anywhere else." Oh no. That was troubling. He knew how easy it was to keep information in his head forever. The scars from Russia may have faded, but each one left another wall between the outside world and the information that he would tell the world.

"I can't just walk up and ask him for it. That's impossible." And he was pretty sure the U.S. government would have problems with him taking one of their highest grossing CEO's and torturing him for information. Not that he would, of course, but he knew a particularly awful prison in Russia that might make the man talk.

Mozzie, however, had other ideas. "A wise man once said, 'It's fun to do the impossible.'"

"Bertand Russell?"

"Walt Disney." He started to walk off. "You should read more." Navon followed him. "Our clock is five months. You ingratiate yourself, become a trusted friend, then convince him to tell you." And if he got lucky, he could do all and manage to turn him into an asset against his terrorist buddies.

"Why don't you do it?" Why was the other man including him?

"I'm more the behind the scenes guy." So you're like a handler, he thought. He could deal with that. Especially because his handler was about ready to saw off his toes for making her worry about him for months on end and doing the unthinkable for her, actually caring about an operative. "Okay, look at me and then look in the mirror. Who has a better chance of charming Adler at the charity dinner on Friday?" Mozzie handed him a flier.

"Antiquities Recovery Project." He read through the pamphlet. "It's five grand a plate. I can't afford that." If he spent five grand on this, he wouldn't eat for a week or more. And while he did know how to stretch his meals thin, he didn't really feel like stretching them that thin. Five grand was more than he made in two months!

"You can if you cash in a few more of your bonds." That was risky. They were supposed to be exchanged for the real bonds and the real ones were supposed to be sent back home. Cashing them in, he would have to make more.

* * *

He was at the bank at Midtown, First Unity Bank. Mozzie was waiting outside. "Hey."

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah." He unzipped the pouch and pulled out a lollipop. "The teller was a sweetheart."

"Aw, she gave you a sucker. You know, the irony of that would not be lost on Alanis Morissette." Navon chuckled.

"This guy's a forger," they heard a voice say, "He's good."

"What?"

"Shh," Mozzie told him, "Brooks Brother Suit."

"So?" The FBI was just a glorified police force with federal access.

"So that means Fed, talking to the bank manager."

"If some tries to cash these bonds, you call me immediately."

"I never met a Fed before." He took the sucker and handed Moz the pouch.

"Let's keep it that way."

"-detain him if possible."

"Excuse me. Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. Are you with the FBI?"

"Special Agent Peter Burke," the Fed said.

"Wow. I just took some money out of the bank, and I heard you talking about counterfeiting."

"Your money's safe. I'm looking after counterfeit bonds."

"Well, I have some bonds at home. How would I know if they're not real?"

"I'm sure they're fine."

"Well, thanks again for all the hard work you're doing, Agent Burke." Navon handed Burke the sucker, "That's for you. Have a good day." He walked off, knowing this Burke was probably looking after him.

* * *

Navon stood in line in the store with the forty dollar bottle of wine. He knew Simon was coming and knew the Russian would be annoyed if he had to drink any of the really cheap stuff. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it now, not with the money he was making from Adler. He knew the money was mostly dirty, that's why he kept feeding it back into the company, but he needed money to live. His budget from Mossad was enough for him to live off of the dollar menu at McDonalds, a place he despised. A woman walked up behind him, struggling with all the packages she was carrying. Automatically, he grabbed several of them off the top.

"Let me help you with that."

The lady looked grateful, her blue eyes smiling back at his own. "Oh, thank you!"

"Trying to open a restaurant?"

The woman laughed. "I have to make dinner for my husband's coworkers. He's made some team or something and they're celebrating. I said I'd cook, only I got so busy unpacking that I wound up leaving everything until last minute." Navon set his wine and her groceries down on what little space there was on the conveyor belt, then took the rest of the items from her, placing one on at a time as the space opened up. "Oh, thank you!"

The cashier looked at him expectantly and he pulled out his wallet, giving the man a fifty and the man gave him his change. The woman paid for her groceries once they finished ringing and she looked flustered when he grabbed most of her bags for her.

"You don't have to do that. I could have-"

"Struggled with them," he finished, "At least let me help you into a taxi." She looked relieved that he hadn't run off at the first sign of being allowed to.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would do if I had to lug them back and forth."

"Your husband should help you lug them to your home." She laughed.

"Are you kidding? My husband's probably not going to leave work until three minutes to when he needs to be home," the woman told him as he opened the cab door for her. "I'm Elizabeth."

"Neal," he replied and she smiled.

"Well, do you mind sharing a cab, Neal?"

He gave her a charming smile. "Not at all."

* * *

"I'm pulling the plug," Eliana told him when he called her.

"What? No!"

"We're sending some else in. I scheduled you a flight home for tomorrow."

"Please don't do this. I can get the job done. Just let me do things my way."

"Your way's going to get you killed, Navon! You've been acting insane and doing these- these cons and you're playing with fire and I don't want to have to explain to your parents why you're coming home in a box!" Neither realized that she had said his name over the phone. "Look, your coming home and going on administrative leave, effective immediately unless you can give me a good reason why I should veto that decision."

He was quiet for a good minute and when he spoke, his voice was so soft she could barely here him. "El, I found something that makes me feel alive again, something that makes me happy about getting up in the morning. We have the highest recovery rate in the division and I'm not tossing myself off a bridge, at least not in a suicidal way."

She sighed on the other end of the phone. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" A man with dark curly hair yelled as he sat at the bar of the Alphabet Bar.

"What's wrong?" Navon asked him as he took a drink from the glass of wine he ordered.

"Vincent Alder." The Israeli eyed him up and down.

"CIA, huh?" The man stiffened. "Let me guess, you were supposed to turn Adler, make him an asset, and he disappeared instead?"

"I take it you're another agency?"

"Mossad."

"Ah, business or pleasure?"

"Both, neither. I was after Alder too. He got me for everything. Or almost everything." The man grimaced.

"August Anderson."

"Navon Chait. But most people call me Neal Caffrey." Recognition flashed over Auggie's face.

"The conman. I had heard some rumors." He gave the man a smile. "It's nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lehi lehizdayen is Hebrew for F*** you.
> 
> This is as close to canon as I could get keeping it in my AU of Neal being the son of two Israeli spies. I wanted to have James still be Neal's real father in this and to be a criminal and I wanted to keep with what Neal told Peter in "What Happens in Burma" about his mother told him his father died a hero and that he grew up wanting to be a cop. I also wanted what he told Peter about his real name being "Neal Bennett" to be the truth.
> 
> I feel like Neal's stepfather being named "Noam" is kind of funny, because I realized that the guy who play's Agent Rossabi on CA is named "Noam" in real life.
> 
> Shoshanah "Tara" Avraham did not want to be a model. I added her in because White Collar had a canon Israeli character and it was too good to resist! She was in episode 1x02 Threads as an Israeli model getting her toes wet in the modeling industry. She acts shy and timid, but she's a good chameleon. She is whatever she needs to be for the job.
> 
> Pick a country is a reference to Covert Affairs episode 2x07, when Auggie tells the flight attendant to pick a country and he'd meet her there. Simon and Neal met in Pikuach Nefesh, when Simon saved him from the Russian prison. Neal is shirtless while Simon fixes him up because I kind of couldn't resist putting him in shirtless. :D I wanted to have Simon take off his shirt completely too, but I figured just the tattoo was enough. When Simon tells Neal that he'll find him, it's a reference to CA 3x01, when he meets Annie and he tells her he'll find her.
> 
> The Cafe Mezada on Hayarkon Street is a real place according to the Internet.
> 
> Eyal was in medical school before he joined Mossad after his sister's dead. He told Annie this. Alexei Vershinin was, of course, Annie's interrogator when she was imprisoned. Eyal remembers this name, but doesn't allow himself to get revenge.
> 
> Many of these scenes are taken from "Forging Bonds". The Beretta is a nod to James Bond and Ian Flemming.
> 
> Eliana is a White Collar character… in disguise! Her interactions with Neal on the show are mimicked in this. Can anyone guess who she is?


End file.
